


speaking in codes (and no one knows)

by servetas



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: ......., Coming Out, Declarations Of Love, Feelings, Getting Together, I think that's it - Freeform, Internalized Homophobia, Investigations, Lesbian Dee Reynolds, M/M, Secret Relationship, banging, but like as an undertone, but you know what you can go wild, did i just blow it, i imagined this based around season five or so, i'm so good at tagging can you tell, kinda sorta maybe......they tell the gang they're together so kinda, like if you're an english major and you're being forced to analyze the most mundane things, love how this is a tag like yeah it's canon she's a dyke next, love how we're all on the same page, new year new bullshit from me!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22410982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servetas/pseuds/servetas
Summary: "Guys?" Dee shrieks, eyes wild. "What do you mean you have no clue? Am I the only one that's got this down?""Got what down?" Frank chimes in from behind the paper, slightly less bored.Dee cheers up, smug smile back on her face. "That little Dennis has got himself a little fucktoy."or, the gang suspects that dennis is banging somebody, and dennis will do everything it takes in order not to face his feelings
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 4
Kudos: 176





	speaking in codes (and no one knows)

**Author's Note:**

> my first piece for the new year! this is so stupid but like that's my speciality at this point so might as well just post it. completely self indulgent if i'm honest but i'm sure somebody else will enjoy it, even if it's like, one person. i'm kinda sleep deprived, so i'm keeping this short and sweet, but if you wanna yell at me on [tumblr](https://thelesbiancometh.tumblr.com/) feel free to do so, and i hope you enjoy this piece of shit! feedback is always appreciated, and also a form of payment to me, because i'm giving you brain rot for free!

Dee has been acting strange all day.

Well, if Dennis _speaks:_ Dee has always acted strange, ever since they were nine and Barbara's dog had taken a shit on their bedroom floor, whereupon she thought it would help to hold it in her hand and proceed to shove it back up where it came from. But _this_ – this isn't strange as in _Dee strange,_ but as in _Dee is being forced to act this way by circumstances, and I don't like it._

She keeps staring at him, too, is the thing. And normally, Dennis loves it when people stare at him. It's part of his routine. But when your sister does it? – that's just on a whole other level of bizarre.

"Can I _help_ you?" Dennis snaps at some point, hand spasming on top of a ratty cloth he had been using to wipe down the bar counter. Mac and Charlie look up from where they're trying to scrape gum from under the booth tables, alarmed. 

Dee's mouth purses around the rim of her beer bottle. She shrugs, "I don't know, Dennis. _Can_ you?"

"That's exactly what I fucking asked, Deandra. God– Keep up!"

"Oh, getting touchy there, Dennis?" she grimaces, expectant eyes begging to be punched out.

Instead, Dennis takes a deep breath, lifts his hands over his head. "I'm not doing this with you today. Today has been great so far– If only you didn't just have to ruin everything with your– your _staring,_ and your–" he sputters, grabbing the cloth again in a haste, "–fucking _thoughts–"_

"Was my little brother having a good day? May I ask what I have to thank for this rarity?" she pauses, takes a smug sip of beer. "Or shall I say: _who?"_

"Little bro– I am _two minutes_ younger than you! Two _goddamn_ min– Damn it, Frank!" Dennis shrieks, addressing his father at the other side of the room. "Will you tell this dumb fucking bitch daughter of yours that she was born two minutes before me?"

Frank looks up from his newspaper, bored. _"Not_ my daughter, _not_ my son," he says, annoyed. "And how the hell am I supposed to know? I wasn't with the whore when she was poppin' youse out. I was bettin' the house on the ponies."

"Classy, Frank," Dee scoffs, but Frank only tuts and goes back to reading the (upside down) paper. "You know what, Dennis, at this point you might as well just spill the beans. We all know."

"What?" Dennis snorts. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I _talking_ about, what am I goddamn…" Dee laughs, turning to Mac and Charlie for support. They're scraping away at the tables, very much ignoring her. "Guys! Can you believe he's still trying?"

They both stare at her, and Charlie tuts in annoyance. "To be honest, Dee, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about," he says, and exchanges glances of agreement with Mac. "Like, _ever."_

"What?" Dee scoffs. "Come on, Mac, you're smart, and– and nosy. I know you want in on this."

"I honestly have no idea what you're saying," Mac tells her. "You're becoming unintelligible these days."

"Oh, you just got _owned!"_ Charlie shouts, giving Mac a high-five. "Imagine being called unintelligent by _Mac,_ bro! You got your ass _served!"_

On second thought, Mac pauses. "What?" he says, lowering his voice. "Dude, I called her unintelligible."

"Unin– Unineli–"

 _"Unintelligible!_ Un– Fuck it, man, scrape some more gum off."

 _"Guys?"_ Dee shrieks, eyes wild. "What do you mean you have no clue? Am I the only one that's got this down?"

"Got _what_ down?" Frank chimes in from behind the paper, slightly less bored.

Dee cheers up, smug smile back on her face. "That little Dennis has got himself a little fucktoy."

At once, Frank, Charlie, and Mac all perk up, abandoning whatever they were previously doing – because, apparently, this is too good to miss. They all inch closer to the bar, where the twins are currently sitting, having a staredown that could freeze time.

"This is preposterous," Dennis says, calm as ever. Under his skin, his pulse is skyrocketing. "I don't have a fucktoy, for God's sake, I mean– I think lack of sex has is making you see it everywhere, Dee!"

 _"Perhaps!"_ Dee screams, jumping off her stool. Everyone holds their breaths. "But perhaps not," she resumes, and the breaths are released, as if in unison. "Perhaps I have no way to back up my claims… But perhaps I do–"

"Come on, Dee, where are you going with this?" Mac huffs, his foot repeatedly tapping down onto the tile. Charlie frowns at it.

"I am _going_ where I _need_ to go– _Jesus,_ Mac," Dee pushes the hair out of her eyes, sceptically eyeing Dennis' sweaty face. "Care to explain the fuzzy handcuffs I found in the back office… _brother?"_

Dennis laughs, trying to shake the heebie-jeebies away. It's not helping that everyone is now staring at him with narrowed eyes – this isn't a goddamn court case for crying out loud! "For God's sake, Dee, how do you even know they are mine? Have you stopped for one second to think these might be Frank's, or– or _Charlie's–"_ he waves around, voice growing higher by the second.

"Come on, Dennis. You know nobody in here fucks except you – occasionally," she scoffs. From the corner of his eye, Charlie folds his arms over his chest, nods in silent, ashamed agreement. "And, besides–" she grins, pauses to pull out a little piece of paper from her pocket. Dennis gulps at the sight of it. "It had a little to buy list with your handwriting – and name, for some reason – on it. Which was really quite convenient."

"Goddamn it…" Dennis hears someone say, though he can't exactly pinpoint who. Charlie frowns again, though.

"Yeah," Dee says, feigning nonchalance. "Let's have a read, shall we?" She unfolds it, clears her throat before reciting: "To buy: blindfold, whipped cream, toilet pap– no, uh– condoms, and–" she folds it back up, shoving it in her pocket as she says, slowly and gravely: _"lube."_

Dennis tries to swallow, but comes up dry.

His sister – the traitor he shared the womb with – has the nerve to smile at him. "Who's the lube for, Dennis?"

"Oh, come on," Dennis tries to laugh, addressing the rest of the gang with humor in his voice and sweat in places where there shouldn't be any sweat. "You guys are really buying this bull?"

They shuffle around, not quite meeting his eye, with Charlie going as far as to exchange wide-eyed glances with Dee.

"What– Why do you even care so much, huh? You guys normally don't even give a shit about stuff like that, so–" he shrugs, decibels all over the place. "What's– What's with now– So special about _now?"_

Frank and Charlie look at each other, and Frank squints at him: "You've never been so secretive about the other times, Dennis."

"Yeah, like, normally you would not stop talking about slamming ass, but–" Charlie folds his arms over his chest, taking a step forward. "This time you're not… Almost as if you're… _ashamed…"_

"I'm not _ashamed,_ alright?"

"So there _is_ somebody!" Frank points at him.

Dennis closes his mouth, teeth clenching and unclenching in their big prison. He doesn't respond – probably the wrong thing to do right now.

"Why would you be ashamed of someone you're banging, dude?" Charlie presses, with Dee gloating on his side. "Is it another Carmen? Hey, nothing wrong with that. Just tell us."

"You know how ridiculous you sound, right?" Dennis says, deflecting.

"And you sound afraid," Frank says, slowly. "Almost… embarrassed."

Dennis tries to deny everything, but it all feels like it's gonna claw its way down his throat in order not to get out, so he decides to do what he does best. Deflect some more.

"Well– _Dee_ is a lesbian, so–" he screams, points at his sister. 

"And we already _knew_ that!" Charlie shouts back, at the same time Dee says: "What's _that_ got to do with anything?"

"Perhaps we _always_ knew that!" Frank chimes in, ignoring Dee's death stare. "What we don't know is: who is it?"

As silence falls upon them, Dennis contemplates exactly how embarrassing fleeing would be right now, concluding that whatever the damage, staying would be a hundred times as severe. It’s not the first time Dee, Frank, and Charlie have ganged up on him, but it’s a lot different now, so he opts to jump over the bar – knocking down a couple glasses in the process – and run out, with the others screaming after him. Mac looks at the floor, wordless.

* * *

Dennis gives one final shuddering groan and gives out, arms limp by his sides, chest heaving dangerously. His stomach’s sticky with jizz, heart pounding in his ears, and sweat dripping down his temple and over his jaw – his neck is being kissed half-heartedly, a cock slides out of him lazily, and a weight threatens to give on top of him.

Mac collapses next to Dennis in a frenzy of heavy breathing and sweat, swearing under his breath, knuckles gently grazing Dennis’ chest. He stares up at the ceiling – grey and chipped – and Dennis lolls his head to the side to look at him, still heaving. He’d never admit it, but he always dwells on it when Mac looks sceptical like that after they bang – staring at the goddamn ceiling like it’s more interesting than having the hottest man in the history of humanity flushed and naked right next to him, covered in both of their spunks.

“That was…” Mac trails off, trying to regain his breathing. Dennis sighs, deciding staring at the ceiling is the best idea after all. “It was…”

“Yeah…” he agrees, lightly touching the mix of jizz on his stomach with a fingertip.

“God, Dennis,” Mac says, somewhat able to breathe. “That was fucking awful.”

Dennis scoffs, “I wouldn’t say exactly awful–"

“I would,” Mac interrupts, lolling his head to the side to face him. “That was terrible. Worst sex we’ve ever had.”

“Well,” Dennis tuts, lightly slapping Mac on the chest. Firm, solid. Maybe they could go again. “I mean– I know we can do better than that.”

“Goddamn it!” Mac groans, as if the Eagles have lost the Superbowl. “I’m sorry, man. It was me,” he drags a hand down his face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Dee.”

Dennis pauses, eyes fixated on the side of Mac’s dumb fucking face. “You were thinking of my sister while we were having sex?”

“What? No, dude, gross!” says Mac, pushing him away. Dennis takes up on the challenge and shuffles closer, propping his head up on his fist to take a better look at him, perched on his side. “I meant– I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said the other day at the bar. She’s onto us, dude.”

“Nah,” Dennis snuggles on his side. Mac shuffles away from the jizz that’s currently being pressed on his ribs. “Well, not us _specifically._ She knows I’m banging _someone.”_

 _“Being_ banged, you mean,” Mac checks, nodding when Dennis looks up with mischief in his eyes and a crooked smile on his face. Doesn’t last long: “Goddamn it, Dennis! Why did you have to leave these things in the back office of all places?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know Dee would go in there?” Dennis scoffs, annoyed. “I’ve told everyone there’s only paperwork in that desk. Everyone avoids it like the plague,” he says, laughing into Mac’s chest. “How do you think nobody’s managed to walk in on us in there?”

“Well, it didn’t fucking work, did it?” presses Mac.

Dennis gives up, pulling himself away from Mac’s side pointedly. “Alright, alright, _alright!”_ he hisses, tossing his hands above his head. “God, you’re acting as if I _want_ her to know.”

Perhaps the wrong thing to say. Although it was somewhat of an unspoken agreement that they were never to let anyone know what was going on, it was also an unspoken agreement never to mention it. It was just not… _nice,_ that’s all.

"Dude," Mac begins, sitting up, and Dennis buries his head in his hands in preparation. "Are you, like… ashamed of me?"

"Of course I'm not _ashamed_ of you," says Dennis, perching himself back onto Mac’s back, who is currently avoiding his face. "Are you really listening to Dee? She doesn't know shit. She doesn't even know I'm banging _you."_

Mac toys with the pair of boxers on his side – maybe Dennis', but he wouldn't know. He shrugs a shoulder, sighing as Dennis kisses it. He looks like he wants to say something else, and Dennis rubs his back encouragingly. Sickly sweet and all. God, this is pathetic. 

"What's on your mind?" he mumbles into Mac's skin, leaving feathery touches on top of every one of his shoulder freckles.

Mac looks at the ceiling again. "Is this, like– What _is_ this?"

Dennis snorts, "Uh, I'm not following."

"Come on, Dennis. What is _this,_ you know? Like–" he gestures between them, wildly. "Is this just _banging_ to you?"

Dennis laughs. _"What?"_

"I won't be mad if– If you say _yes,"_ Mac shrugs in feign cool, although his tone says the opposite. "Like, it's whatever, you know? It's fine," he shakes his head, forces a laugh. "Feelings are gay, bro. Just tell me."

Dennis hopes he looks as incredulous as he feels, "Tell you _what,_ for crying out loud?"

"What this _means_ to you!" Mac's voice raises, but he calms himself down soon enough. "Sorry, I'm– I'm cool. Come on,” he slaps Dennis’ knee, “let it out."

"Do you _hear_ yourself?" Dennis scoffs, grabbing his boxers from Mac's side. Well, Mac's boxers now that he takes a better look. He puts them on anyway. "God, Mac, when did you become such a chick? You're completely contradicting yourself! One second you say feelings are gay – which is fucking insane on its own – and then you're bitching at me to let them out!"

"Maybe I lied!" Mac shouts. Dennis can't really take him seriously with his dick out. "I'm just saying what I think you _want_ to hear because I _am_ a chick! This is who I am now! Apparently!"

"God! What do you want me to say?"

Mac takes a deep breath. "Is this just banging?" he says, eyes big and calm. "Or is this something else? I won't walk, no matter what you say, but– I deserve to know."

"Goddamn it, Mac," Dennis rubs at his temple. A headache is starting to bloom under there somewhere, which is just the icing on the cake in this whole ordeal. "You're pressuring me, dude."

"How am I _pressuring_ you?"

 _"How?_ This was _fun!_ I was actually having fun for once in my life and then you– _Ugh!"_ he groans, flopping down on the bed. Mac is staring at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. "Don't talk to me."

"Don't tell me what to do, Dennis," Mac stands up, folds his arms in front of his chest. The swell of his muscles aren't really helping this situation.

"And for God's sake, Mac, put some fucking pants on."

"Yeah, 'cause we're done now, aren't we?" Mac snorts, pulling his sweatpants off the floor and stepping into them, commando. "We banged, so… That's it for today, I guess. You know where to find me when you need to use me again."

Dennis laughs behind the pillow he's currently using to smother himself, flailing around like a madman, in hopes it will make Mac shut up. It was never that easy. 

"You're so pathetic, you don't even have the balls to say you're using me for dick."

"Your dick _sucks,_ Mac!" Dennis screams, throwing the pillow at him in a frenzy. Mac dodges it. “I don’t even _enjoy_ it half the time, you know? You’ve got to get on that.”

“That’s a _goddamn–"_ he picks up the pillow and launches it back, hitting Dennis on the crotch, _“-lie!_ Today was the only time I struggled and you know it!”

“Please,” Dennis scoffs lowly, “you can barely get it up most of the time.”

“Oh, you wanna go, dude?”

“Jesus fucking– _Ah!”_ Dennis screams, pressing the pillow back onto his face. “Goddamn it! You’re so fucking _delusional!”_ He removes the pillow, glaring at Mac: “Ever heard of penile enhancement surgery, hotshot? Why don’t you give it a try?”

“Oh, that’s cute, Den,” Mac glares back, fuming and red-faced. “Please! Tell me more!”

“Oh, my God, bro, seriously? You’re so bad at this that half the time I feel like calling the fucking cops! You should be locked up!”

“That’s nice! That’s mature!” Mac cries, forehead vein ready to pop. “All I asked was for you to clarify what this _means_ to you–"

"For fuck's sake! Why do you have to _ruin_ everything? Isn't this _fun?_ Don't you think this is _exciting?_ "

Mac's arms flex against his chest as he thinks, standing up with his jaw clenched, eyes squinting at the floor. Finally, he shrugs: "I mean… I _guess."_

"Yeah? Don't you like this?" Dennis sits up on his knees, still very much on the bed. He crawls over to the side of the bed slowly, gravely, looking up at Mac once he's next to him. "Aren't we having a nice time together?"

Mac glances at him briefly, looking back down when he meets Dennis' eye. Reluctantly, he nods. "Well, yeah, Den…"

"Den, I like that," Dennis grins, a little break from his mantra. He sensually rubs down one of Mac's rigid biceps, feeling him melt under his touch. "Aren't you enjoying this anymore?"

"I am, Dennis!" Mac blurts, arms uncrossing. It gives Dennis more freedom to roam Mac's skin as a form of distraction. "It's just that it gets weird sometimes, you know? Because we– We're acting so _normal_ one second and then, boom, you're ripping my clothes off and it's just _weird."_

"Mac, if you don't wanna do it anymore, you have to tell me."

"No, that's the thing!" Mac tuts. Dennis feels him closing up again, so he gently tugs him by his bicep – perched as he is, his knees digging into the mattress – until Mac's shins are hitting the end of the bed, and Dennis is rubbing his tense back. "I _want_ to do this, but… I don't want to be so friendly the rest of the time, you know? I feel like a whore."

Dennis laughs, tilting his head to the side. "I'm not paying you, dude."

"You know what I mean," Mac sighs, rolling his shoulder-blades under Dennis' hand.

"I'm not gonna lie, Mac…" Dennis begins, but closes his mouth when he gets a sad look in return. "Oh, come on. Come on, dude. You know I love doing this with you, right?"

Mac looks at Dennis' hands, smoothing down his arms and shoulders, then at Dennis' eyes, gleaming and filled with mirth. He purses his mouth. "Do you?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Dennis smiles. "You're really good at this, bro. And these extra reps you're doing at the gym?" Dennis waits for emphasis, until Mac is very visibly hanging off his lips. "They're paying off, dude."

Mac looks down at himself. "Really?"

"Are you joking?" Dennis laughs, leaning up to whisper into his ear. "Do you think you can lift me up now? That'd be hot," he says, trying not to laugh.

Mac thinks about it. Instead of answering, he faces Dennis, their faces a couple inches apart. "Do you really think my dick sucks?"

Dennis pauses for a second, quickly regaining his composure. "Well… No," is all he can say, incredulous.

It's good enough for Mac, apparently, because he lets Dennis pull him close and kiss him softly – something he doesn't do normally. It just seems fit right now. But he does it, and he does it right, with his arms around his neck and his nose nudging his cheekbone. He kisses his cheek, hums to see Mac nod, fondles Mac’s crotch to feel him squirm. He’s just about ready for round two, or ready to forget about the embarrassment that was round one.

But a shrill, annoying voice calls out: _“Dennis?”_ from the living room, and both of them stop dead in their tracks.

Mac, wild-eyed and anxious, somehow whispers and yells at the same time: “Shit, dude, is that Dee?”

Dennis shushes him sharply, then swiftly jumps off the bed once Dee calls for him again. He looks around, trying to ignore Mac’s muttering out a string of curses under his breath, and eventually pulls him by the arm as he hears footsteps inch closer. 

“Get in,” he hisses, jerkily nodding towards the wardrobe. Mac frowns.

“What? Dude, I’m, like, twice the size of that thing! There’s _no_ way–"

“God, dude, you’re really not? You’re _really–"_ more footsteps, more hair pulling from Dennis’ part. “Just get in the fucking closet!”

Mac huffs but obliges, sucking in his gut and making himself smaller to fit in. Dennis is sure there must be a metaphor in there somewhere, but he doesn’t have time to dissect it between hastily looking for his sweatpants and kicking Mac’s clothes under the bed.

Dee barges in before he can spot them, standing in the doorway with a _gotcha_ expression – which immediately drops as she sees him just standing there, in his underwear. She raises her eyebrows: “Oh, you’re… _alone.”_

“Uh, _yeah?”_ Dennis breathes out, throwing his arms in the air. “Who am I supposed to be with? Do you think I am with someone right now? Because I’m not.”

Dee watches him. “Well, you kind of are. ‘Cause _I’m_ here.” She takes a step inside, eyes unashamedly perusing the room, “Must be a lonely life, huh? Sure there’s… no one in– _Ha!”_ she shouts, suddenly dropping on the floor to check under the bed, frowning as she stands back up. _Didn’t see the clothes,_ Dennis thinks gratefully.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dennis says, trying to sound exasperated. “Can we take this to the kitchen, at least? I’m starving.”

“Have you been working out, Dennis?” Dee says, her eyes trailing downward. Her eyebrows slope together. “Are these _your_ boxers?”

Dennis closes his eyes before he even looks down. Why had he been so disoriented in the first place? If you were disoriented after sex, that meant the sex had to be _good_ in the first place. What kind of bullshit is that?

“Oh,” he clears his throat, scratching his jaw at the sight of the plaid blue boxer shorts, and not his usual tight briefs. “Nah, these– Those must be Mac’s…” he swallows, shrugs as Dee raises her eyebrows. “Must have gotten… mixed in the wash…”

Dee remains silent. “Yeah,” she draws out, scoffing. She strides in, looking around inconspicuously. “Well, anyhow, it’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?” she draws closer to the window, airy, barely audible. Dennis pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe we could… go out for a– _Gotcha!”_ she rips the curtains apart, finding nothing but the smudged up windows Dennis hasn’t cleaned in years. “Oh, goddamn it!”

“Are you done?” Dennis tuts, putting on his best annoyed act. “Or would you like to check the vase on my bedside table, too? The wardrobe, even?”

Dee narrows her eyes at him, and he does too, and they have a staredown reminiscent to the ones they would have when they were little and they wanted to see who would dare to take the last popsicle, which would end up going bad due to both of their excessive guarding of it.

Eventually, Dee deflates. “Fine,” she sighs, leaning against the wardrobe. Dennis’ heart drops to the pit of his stomach. “I came over to see what you guys were up to, anyway. Charlie’s freaking out because the bar’s packed and he’s the only one doing any work, it’s _so_ funny,” she shakes her head. “Where’s Mac, anyway?”

“How would _I_ know?” Dennis blurts, too quick. “Are you saying I should know where Mac is at all times? What is he, my fucking boyfriend? That’s fucking gay.”

Dee stares in silence. Hesitantly, she says: “Gee, Dennis, didn’t mean to–"

“Well, then don’t!” he screeches.

More silence. Dennis can practically hear Mac holding his breath in the wardrobe – somehow, not sure how – and the way Dee’s leaning her bony back against it is making him feel uneasy.

“Can you, like, get away from there, please?” 

Dee looks absolutely incredulous. “What? Why?”

“Because–" Dennis coughs as there’s a knock from inside the wardrobe, pulling Dee by the arm and away from the closet, “-we need to go to the bar! You said Charlie’s freaking out, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, but– Stop fucking pushing me!” she shakes off Dennis’ prodding hands, as they’re halfway out of the room. “What’s your fucking deal?”

 _“Nothing’s_ my deal! I just really, really want to go the bar!”

Dee looks like she’s dying to say something, but ultimately decides against it. “Fine. But put some fucking pants on.”

“Will do!”

Dee gives him one last incredulous glance before she begrudgingly walks back into the living room. Finally, Dennis can spring into action; he slams the door shut and trips over his feet to pull the closet doors open. Mac practically falls out with a few overexaggerated coughs, at which point Dennis starts kicking and shushing him to shut him up.

“She’s still here, dude! Be quiet!” he hisses, and Mac regards him with watery eyes.

“I could fucking hear you through the doors, dude, I know she’s– Goddamn it, do you _spray_ that thing every morning?”

“I can’t have my clothes smelling, dude,” Dennis shrugs, tensing up when Dee calls for him. “I gotta go to the bar– You think about where you’re gonna tell them you were,” he rushes out, filing through his open wardrobe for a shirt and pants. 

“Well– Hold on, Den, we were in the middle of something.”

“No time,” Dennis mumbles, pulling on the shirt, still very much in Mac’s boxers. “Gotta go.”

“Will we talk about it later, at least?”

Dennis pauses, chewing on his cheek as he observes Mac – who’s still trying not to cough and look all serious. Not a good look.

“Bye, buddy,” he ends up saying, complete with a pat on the shoulder, and Mac only sighs and tries to go in for a goodbye kiss, whereupon Dennis can only scoff, dodge it, and carry his pants out the door.

He hears the bedsprings creak as Mac probably throws himself on the bed, but Dee thankfully doesn’t notice as he comes into view. She only groans: “You’re still not dressed? Come on, Dennis, it _stinks_ in here – I don’t wanna be here for longer than I need to.”

“Sorry. Got distracted,” he mumbles as he pulls his pants on, shoving his feet into his shoes hastily since Dee is already speedwalking out of the apartment. He grabs his keys on the way out, messing his hair up, hoping he doesn’t smell too much like sex and Mac’s armpits.

* * *

One good thing about Mac is that he usually has the memory span of a goldfish. This has saved Dennis’ ass multiple times, now that he thinks about it.

He's currently waiting for Mac to come in all the way into the back office and lock the door behind him, before he pounces and kisses him hungrily, much to the idiot's – who stumbles back and seeks support from the door handle – surprise.

“Uh–" he breathes when Dennis pulls away, but ultimately decides to close his mouth as hands shove themselves under his muscle tee. 

Dennis flicks a thumb over his nipple, starts sucking a bruise under his jaw even when Mac doesn’t react. “Come on, man,” he sighs, tip of his thumb circling the bud. “Loosen up, baby…”

“Yeah,” Mac sighs after a pause, and a reluctant hand places itself inside of Dennis’ back pocket. “Yeah, sorry.”

Dennis’ tongue pauses the circling of Mac’s earlobe, but he resumes soon enough. It’s hard to build up an atmosphere when you’re the only one doing any damn work.

“Come on, dude, _touch_ me,” he tuts, pulling away in the slightest to look Mac in the eyes. He looks distracted – not ideal at the moment. “Dee has been busting my balls all day and I need to unwind.”

Mac’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t protest as Dennis pulls the muscle tee off of him, his hands reaching down for his belt buckle, mouth bruising up against Mac’s own. Dennis feels Mac’s unsure hands on the back of his thighs, and he pushes one of them into Mac’s crotch, silently encouraging him to rub one off. It would be better than fucking nothing, at least, and yet, here they still are.

“Alright, dude, what’s your deal?” Dennis says, pushing away from Mac altogether. "What's wrong with you lately? I can't be doing all the work, bro."

"God, Dennis, you're so fucking selfish," Mac tuts, dragging a hand down his face. "And you don't even try! Did you even think about asking me what's wrong?"

"I _just_ did! Get with the program!"

"Oh, my–" Mac clenches his teeth together, counts to three in his head, sighs out a couple of breaths. "You make me fucking mad, Dennis. You make me so fucking _angry."_

"Woah, dude," Dennis raises his palms up in defense, and Mac resorts to banging his head against the wall once. "Chill out. Just– Tell me what's wrong so we can bang." A look of pure rage from Mac. "Or not! You know, just a thought!"

"Fuck, I'm so _sick_ of this!" Mac groans, hastily picking his shirt off the floor and pulling it over his head. "I'm so sick of– of _hiding,_ and feeling like you're goddamn _embarrassed_ of me, like you–"

"I am not _embarrassed_ of you," Dennis shrugs. Mac doesn't look convinced.

"Oh, yeah? Then why are we doing this? Why did you have to give me a fucking signal to meet in here and bang instead of telling the others we're off to bang? Why do we have a goddamn _signal_ in the first place, Dennis?" he screeches, voice raw and shrill. "Fucking hell, why can't we just _tell_ everybody? What does this fucking _mean_ to you finally?"

Dennis is sitting on the desk, licking his teeth in silence. "What was the first question?"

Mac surges forward as if to deliver a (well-deserved) punch right on Dennis' ugly mug, but seems to decide against it. He pulls himself back, groaning into his hands as they drag down his face. He breathes, in and out, and just stares at Dennis. He stares back.

"Are these your final words?" Mac's eyebrows raise. "Is this it?"

"Oh, come _on,_ Mac," Dennis groans, taking a couple steps closer. He places a reluctant hand on Mac's wrist, testing the waters, and starts rubbing it once his face remains intact. "Are you really doing this? I thought we agreed this was _fun."_

"Maybe I don't find it fun anymore," he says, and Dennis drops his hand. "Not like this," he elaborates, breaking under Dennis' disbelieving stare. "Not like _that–_ The sex is still, you know, I don't have a problem with– God _damn_ it, Dennis, _I'm_ supposed to be the mad one!"

Dennis crosses his arms over his chest, continuing to stare at him for lack of anything else to say.

Mac bites at the inside of his cheek. "So, that's it?" he says, hands on his hips. "You're not gonna say anything?"

Dennis sighs, mulls it over. "Finally, Mac: what do you want me to fucking _say?"_

"Tell me what the fuck I _mean_ to you!"

Dennis groans into his hands, wishing he had something to throw on Mac's big dumb fucking head. Anything to make him stop talking.

"Tell me why you're so ashamed of me."

"For the last _fucking_ time–" Dennis shouts, slamming his hand on the desk, "-I am not goddamn _ashamed_ of you! You're my _best_ friend!"

"Do best friends suck each other's dicks?"

 _"We_ do! We are–" he fumbles with his words, groaning once he draws up a blank. "We are _us!_ We are _Mac and Dennis,_ we are– we are two codependent losers– We've never done anything by the book! You're my best friend, you're my bang buddy, you're my nemesis, you're my lover– I hate your fucking guts, I _love_ you– It's a package deal! And you've never had a fucking problem with it until now, so here we are!" Dennis is seething, and he's pretty sure his face is starking red. "Ugh, you're so _infuriating,_ dude! I thought– This whole time, I fucking thought we were on the same page but you just don't _get_ it! I thought you got it! How on _Earth_ could you not _get_ it?"

Dennis takes a moment to breathe, his forehead popping veins and voice gone to shit. He's pissed – and looking at Mac, all speechless and wide-eyed, is making him even more so. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? 

"You–" Mac starts, clears his throat when his voice wavers. "You _love_ me."

"What?" Dennis screeches. "Is this all you heard? Oh, my God, dude, will you _please_ focus on what I'm trying to get you to see here?"

Mac's mouth is forming the beginnings of a smile, much to Dennis' dismay. "Well. I can't _now,_ I mean–" he laughs, giddy and stupid. "You just said that you _love_ me, dude."

Dennis just stares in disbelief, trying his best not to punch Mac square in the jaw. "You are just _unbelievable!"_

"And _you_ are the guy I _love,"_ Mac continues, eyes glossed over, not even looking at Dennis. "I am in _love,"_ he murmurs to himself. Dennis is spooked, for lack of a better word. "With Dennis fucking _Reynolds."_

Dennis is contemplating the pros and cons of murder.

"And you just said you feel the _same,_ bro! Do you know what that _means_ for us?"

Bloody, messy, condemned, but totally worth it.

"This could _mean_ something, Den. This isn't just banging, dude!"

"Listen to me," Dennis says between clenched teeth. "Will you, for once, concentrate that tiny, thick shit slob of a brain of yours and goddamn _listen_ to what I am telling you, for _once–_ For _once_ in your life conceal the fact that you are a goddamn fucking stupid idiot and _pretend_ you get this, even for just as _se–"_

Mac surges forward, and Mac is kissing him.

It's all kind of quick, really. One second Mac is kissing him, the other Dennis is biting on his lips to let out all the anger, and the next they have both gone soft into it, leaning against the desk and rubbing tongues, feeling each other up like they've done dozens of times before – but this time it's different. It _feels_ different. It might have something to do with Mac's romcom-esque monologue or something – Dennis is too busy being felt up to think about it.

"Woah, dude," Mac says as soon as he pulls away, to which Dennis replies with a sheepish bite of his own tongue. "I think that was the first time you kissed me without fondling my dick at the same time."

Dennis sighs. "That's not true."

"Uh, ask my balls," replies Mac, and Dennis laughs into his shoulder. "You always have an ulterior motive, Den."

Dennis lifts his head up to study Mac's eyes – previously enraged and foggy, now clear, calm. Full of love and adoration, so much so that Dennis' heart clenches. And his head gets filled with bad, _bad_ ideas.

"Tell you what," Dennis says, smiling as Mac sucks at his own bottom lip in anticipation. Hanging off of his every word. "Come with me."

Mac obeys, because obviously he does, even though Dennis sort of pulls him by the hand and unlocks the door, guiding the both of them outside. Mac radiates confusion, and Dennis feels it behind his back, trying not to let it deter him.

The others are standing around the bar, Dee mixing a drink (weirdly, since Dee is a) _useless;_ hence not knowing how to do anything, let alone make drinks, and b) _lazy_ as all _fuck,_ which is the root of most of Dennis' stress), Charlie anxiously chewing at the end of his broomstick as he slumps against it, and Frank sat on a stool, barefoot, newspaper upside down and covering his face. A normal Friday night, which makes this even scarier.

Dennis clears his throat, gaining himself three glares. Well, maybe four, but he can't really see Mac's face behind his back. "Attention, everyone. I have an announcement."

He briefly notices Charlie exchange a look with Dee behind his shoulder, but squeezes Mac's (sweaty) hand tighter for encouragement.

"I just wanted to bring to the gang's attention the fact that I, uh…" he sniffs, trying to decipher Mac's expression from the corner of his eye. "Well, you… You were right."

A pause. Dee clears her throat: "Who– Who was right?"

 _"You,_ Deandra, goddamn it, you _always_ have to–" he stops himself, humming under his breath to calm himself down. Mac's hand has gone rigid. "You were right about me… _banging_ somebody."

Frank lowers the newspaper.

"And not _just_ that," Dennis adds, pulling Mac forward. He looks ready to shit himself. "I, uh… I am in love, I think. I think that's what it is."

Dee leaves the drink on the bartop, fixated. It makes him all the more nervous.

"And, uh, the person whom I am in love with… well…" he continues, trying to ignore how bonkers it sounds in his head. "The person I'm in love with is– Mac. I've been banging Mac."

None of them really reacts, Dennis notices, which is not ideal for numerous reasons. For one, this leaves him exposed, because that was a loaded statement after all. They have so much to pick from. Why isn't anybody doing it?

"I mean–" Dee chimes in, almost startling him. "We know…"

"You _know?"_ Dennis screeches, and it bounces off the walls disturbingly loud in the silence. "What the hell do you mean _you know?"_

"Well, you were kind of, like, _yelling_ in there," Charlie elaborates, with a little nervous giggle. "Like– Really… _shouting."_

"We kinda heard the whole thing," Frank shrugs. "Paper thin walls and all."

"You heard the whole thing. And I'm here pretty much pouring my heart out like a fucking idiot for nothing."

They nod. "Pretty much," Dee shrugs.

"Fucking great," he huffs, and Mac slings an arm over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Den," he smiles. "I thought it was beautiful."

"Of course you would," Dee snorts. "He's banging you."

"Well, technically, _I'm_ banging him."

"Well, technically, if this conversation carries on, there will be no banging to be done."

Mac frowns as Dennis shakes the arm off of his shoulders and marches for the door, as does everybody else. _"I love you!"_ he yells, just as Dennis is about to slam the door behind him, pretending he didn't hear the sharp: _"Eat a dick!"_ in return as he turns to the rest of the gang. "He said he loved me first, so…"

Charlie and Dee look at each other again, in that annoying way they keep doing just to get on Mac's nerves, and then they keep going about their business; Charlie sweeping away, Dee slugging down her drink, and Frank pointedly staring at his paper, hoping that if they ignore the impending doom of PDA, random makeout sessions, and banging in the back office, it might not happen.

 _Good luck with that,_ Mac thinks. _Because I am in love, and I am invincible._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! have a good one!


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